Fight Me!
by RedredR
Summary: Sawamaru gets some visitors. Kuramochi spirals into a panic.


Sawamura is being held taut in a perfect inverted facelock.

Youichi goes numb for a moment, but when his brain reengages it gets flooded with a number of different thoughts.

The first is that he's going kick that guy's ass, because only he is allowed to use those types of moves on Sawamura. The second thought is about the wrestling move being used, it really is a superb looking facelock, he'll have to try it someday. And lastly, he wonders if Sawamura usually looks like that when he's trying out new holds on him; all red faced and flushing. Supple and lean limbs contorting exquisitely, in a way that only Sawamura's flexible form allows.

That third notion brings Youichi back round to the first one, because why the HELL is this guy, this- this over-sized gorilla touching their south paw in that way! How dare he come onto their grounds and do as he pleases! Just who the hell does he think he is! And, just what is Sawamura doing, letting someone manhandle him like that! That little punk. He's going to get it later.

He looks around to see if anyone else has noticed and sure enough, Miyuki, currently held up in an interview, keeps on snatching peaks at Sawamura. So pretty much useless. Leaving it all up to him then.

Spurred to move, Youichi begins a determined and seething, but measured advance in the direction of the offender. He doesn't exactly know what it looks like, but he's sure he's sporting the expression that had Yankees and delinquents from all corners of his home town high-tailing it in the other direction when he stalked by. All of them, from the immature and trouble seeking brats like his so-called friends that use stink up the baseball club room (and didn't think he noticed). All the way up to the old farts that still sported their pompadours. Much like the one this guy is wearing. In fact, Youichi is sure that he's seen quiffs a lot like this one before.

Wait.

No.

Youichi stops in his tracks.

He has it seen it before. He knows that exact hairstyle.

It has Youichi freezing again. Because. Because, he knows exactly who the guy is.

* * *

"You little punk."

Said punk is struggling hopelessly against a pair of restraining arms.

"What's this?! I find that you've been in Tokyo for over a year and you don't come see me."

"Ah, T-Takamura-san, I think you might be hurting him. Perhaps you should-"

The soft-spoken polite interjection is all but completely ignored and the gruff hollers continue.

"You haven't even come to any of my matches!"

"…"

"What an ungrateful little brat!"

"Ne. Takamura, his face looks like it's starting to go a bit red-" This second interrupter also goes unnoticed.

"Even after I wasted all those precious summer weekends chasing your snotty nose around that god-damn farm! Your old man called me you know? You're lucky I didn't tell him that you haven't even called. How rude. What do you have to say for yourself?! Huh?"

The brat in question is only able to answer in strangled chocking noises, what with the thick bicep pressing against his throat.

"And your Gramps! Imagine what he'd say! He'd give you a good smack, that's for sure. I know. Why don't I give you one for him?! "

"Ah, Takamur-" the last person in the party, thus far silent, doesn't get a chance to speak his turn because he himself is interrupted.

The source of the loud interrupting 'Oi' is a somewhat short, but compact kid; wearing an impressive scowl and the same baseball uniform as the aforementioned punk-brat still squirming in a tight facelock. Who just that previous moment, had been the center of the groups' attention.

Attention which has now shifted to the scowling newcomer.

* * *

Youichi would not exactly describe himself as an emotional guy. Sure, he can be quick to anger (especially when certain annoying pitchers and aggravating catchers are involved), but for the most part he's sure that he has a fairly good hold of his emotions (unlike his whirlwind of a roommate) and generally considers himself to be a decently level-headed person (because then who else would make sure that said stupid roommate wasn't running himself into the ground).

However right now, Youichi's emotions are pulling him in so many different directions that he thinks it's very likely that he may throw up.

Because that huge beast of a man that has his dumb-ass roommate all tied up is none other than Takamura Mamoru, the defending Japanese boxing Middleweight Champion. Headliner from the Kamogawa gym. Height: 185 cm. Reach: 189 cm. Vicious and powerful fighting style. Impeccable record since his debut; 13 Wins, 13 KOs.

To say that Youichi is big fan would be a gross understatement.

With the recognition, he realizes that the others in the group are familiar as well. Since coming to Seidou, he hasn't had as much time to closely follow boxing (and pro wrestling) anymore. There are two that are about his height and he can't quite get to their names, but he's seen them on posters during his sporadic visits to Korakuen Hall on his nights off. He's pretty sure that they are of the top seeds in their respective weight classes as well.

However he can't mistake the shortest of the group; Makunouchi Ippo, who recently claimed to the Featherweight title from Sendou, the Naniwa Tiger (another favorite of his), in a hair-raising battle. Youichi still remembers the adrenaline of simply watching the match, the atmosphere and the hall shaking from all of their foot-stomping and cheering. Well worth his money even if his guy didn't win in the end.

Safe to say, Youichi's a little star struck.

He has so many questions. For Takamura especially. What was his training menu like? How many bowls of rice does he eat a day? What kind of conditioning does he do before a match? How heavy was the championship belt? Did he really defeat the bear?

(Could he have his autograph?)

But more importantly. What were they all doing at Seidou? Perhaps they were fans. Or maybe they knew Sawamura. That would make some amount of sense. Sawamura seems to know a lot of people, have a lot of friends. Friends who come watch him play.

(And he's not jealous. Not of Sawamura's endless list of good friends. Or that some of them seem to be pro boxers. Nope. Not jealous at all.)

But just what the hell were they doing to him?!

Youichi was going to get the bottom of this. Screw the admiration (and the jealousy) and the nervous bubbling in his stomach; Japan boxing champion or no, he's got to keep an eye on his roommate and Sawamura is a valuable southpaw; the team needs him.

Steeling his nerves, he restarts his advancement in earnest. Possibly to pick a fight with a group of individuals that could each easily grind him into the ground without breaking a sweat.

* * *

"Oi!" Youichi interjects. All heads turn in his direction.

A pause hangs in the air before Takamura answers.

"Whaddaya want kid."

It doesn't sound like a question and it's dismissive at best – he's still got Sawamura firmly in that hold. Youichi also didn't miss the cursory up-and-down that the tall boxer had given him, not looking very impressed with what he saw.

And suddenly, he's not about to face-off with Takamura Mamoru, Japan's Middleweight Boxing champion - a personal hero. Instead, he's almost back on the bright lit streets of the downtown district back home, staring down one of those old-timer Yankees (the pompadour helps) that hadn't moved on to do anything worthwhile with their lives (like he's sure his mother used to quietly worry would happen to him). And said yankee has got a hold on his friend and is not letting go.

It's all Youichi needs to toss out the last dregs of his nerves and push down any lingering admiration (along with the sharp sting of humiliation he felt at the dismissal).

He shifts body slightly so that his centre of gravity rocks a bit lower and tilts his head back minutely, levelling a sneer at Takamura, clearly expressing his displeasure as being snubbed. He'd learnt early on that puffing himself out and trying to make himself look bigger, especially with his stature, created a false sense of bravado instead of the threat intended. Rather, he found that sitting back on a lower centre of gravity seemed to do the trick. When he was much younger and would let his imagination run a bit wild, he let himself think that he was crouching, ready to spring into action and attack at a moment's notice - like a big jungle cat stalking its prey.

Either way, it has yet to fail to bring about the desired effect of setting his opponent on edge and it looks like today was continuing the trend. Takamura was regarding him again, but this time with sharp assessing eyes. And then after a moment, he seems to reach some kind of conclusion, because he then grins. A angled, wicked grin pulling at the side of his mouth.

(Later that night Youichi will reflect on just how frightening that grin had been)

Youichi's making sure to maintain strong eye contact with him, but can he can feel the stares of the other party members; if he didn't have their full attention before, he does now.

The strangled gasping noise that Sawamura was making suddenly abates in that exact moment. Finally.

Because Takamura has unceremoniously let go of Sawamura and is now fully facing Youichi. He places his hands on his hips and blows his chest up big, and for this guy, there is no false bravado – Youichi is very much intimidated. He feels his body coiling up tight in preparation for whatever's coming.

Only to be completely taken aback when the large boxer bursts out laughing. They're full bellied laughs and Youichi is genuinely baffled. He doesn't know what's going on and he has no idea what to do now. The tension that quickly built up when he issued his silent challenge is just as quickly diffused. A quick scan of the other boxers tells Youichi that they're just as confused. In fact, they almost look a little bit scared.

Sawamura is still bent over, oblivious and wheezing, trying to regain his breath,

All they can do is wait until Takamura's laughing subsides. When it does, he shoots a decidedly less threatening smile in Youichi's direction.

"You've got guts kid. Who knew that they let punks like you into fancy schools like this," he then lets out a few more chuckles.

"Though I guess, if they let this idiot in, then who knows what kinds of standards this place has."

And before Youichi has a chance to be offended, Sawamura is upright and already pointing a reprimanding finger at Takamura.

"Hey! Maa-chan! Don't speak to my senpai like that!"

Maa-chan?!

"Maa-chan?!"

Youichi's incredulous thought is echoed out loud by all the other boxers, but this goes completely unnoticed, because 'Maa-chan' and Sawamura are engaged in a one-sided argument. It mostly seems to consist of Sawamura spouting the virtues of the Seidou baseball club (and his senpai) and trying to reprimand Takamura for bad-mouthing them. Where Takamura's responses are short jibes employed to start Sawamura on another tirade. It cycles back on itself a few times and looks like it could go on for hours. But Youichi can also clearly see a certain amount of affection in the banter, like a worn and well-loved track that's been played over and over.

Makunouchi is starting to fidget and look around nervously. They're both very loud and the volume seems to only be escalating as they continue. If they don't stop soon, someone's going to have to step in because they're starting to draw a lot of attention. Youichi's kept an eye out for Miyuki's increasingly frequent glances, but others are starting to look over now too.

Thankfully, Takamura places a large palm on Sawamura's head and gives it a harder-than-necessary ruffle, effectively shutting him up. The southpaw is now looking up at him inquiringly.

(Youichi idly wonders if that could work for them. They've almost exhausted all other avenues trying to get Sawamura to stop making so much noise)

"Calm down. Calm down. I saw. You were good out there."

Sawamura flushes. Takamura also nods at Youichi.

"You're punk friend as well. Looks like you came to a good school."

"But, you'd better come see next my next match," he puts his hands on his hips, gives Youichi a side glance and continues in a deliberately booming voice (as if he weren't loud enough already).

"Or maybe you could even visit the gym. Have a look at the training of a real champion. Bahaha!"

Passer-by's shoot agitated frowns in their direction, but Takamura continues to laugh.

Sawamura looks like he's about to start again, but the tall fighter then turns his attention to Youichi and shoots him another wicked grin.

"Make sure to bring your friend. If he wants to pick a fight, he'd better be able to back it up with his fists."

Then with a final rough rumple of Sawamura's hair and a warm 'seeya kid' he turns and begins to walk to the school entrance, hands in his pockets. The two boxers whose names he still can't remember follow, with brief hand waves over their shoulders.

Makunouchi is still there though. Awkwardly fiddling with a piece of paper in his hands. He bows neatly and extends the lined note to them.

"Please come see us soon. We'll look forward to seeing you."

Sawamura, being Sawamura, returns the bow with one of his own. Bending at his waist to an almost perfect 90 degrees.

"Osu! Of course!"

Now, the two are almost mirror images of each other. A pair of bowed idiots.

They both keep holding the pose for far longer than etiquette requires.

Sawamura doesn't take the proffered piece of paper.

Youichi doesn't resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Thank you Makunouchi-san. I'll make sure to get this idiot there," he says taking hold of the note and drawing the twin idiots up from their bizarre bowing competition.

"Ah. Great! W-Well- um- I think- that is Takamura-san will probably be really happy if you could come."

Makunouchi smiles sincerely (almost sweetly) at them, eyes going small with the size of the grin, before giving one more quick bow and turning to catch up with his companions.

Youichi gives the note a quick peruse. In neat and concise writing, it details the address of the Kamogawa gym, a contact number and list of times and dates. He doesn't even remember the short boxer writing the note and frankly is still struggling to align the seemingly soft spoken man with the brawling fighter he'd seen in the ring not too long ago.

"My sincerest gratitude Kuromochi-senpai," Sawamura is now bowing in his direction, using his dumb overly formal Japanese.

"I owe you my life."

Youichi does resist the temptation to roll his eyes this time and instead folds up the note, slips it up the sleeve of his compression undershirt (he'll have a giddy moment over it later, when no one's watching) and grabs Sawamura into headlock of his own.

Sawamura is squawking his protest, but Youichi gives him another squeeze for good measure.

"I can't believe you. You little- You're such a pain!"

He's very curious and incredibly infuriated by the fact that Sawamura seems to be good friends with a professional boxer. Good enough friends for him to come and see one of their matches (a practice match no less).

Moreover, he didn't think to tell his esteemed roommate and senpai?!

Youichi is about to start a stern interrogation on the matter when he's spies, in his peripheral vision, Miyuki turning to face them and make his way over, now finished with his interview and no doubt having kept a keen eye on the whole scene.

Youichi's mood immediately deflates, face falling into a scowl, but he keeps a tight hold on Sawamura.

(Who for his part has raises a pushing foot to aid his hands in dislodging himself from his senpai's grip)

If Youichi is being completely honest, in light of the recent revelations, he wishes that Miyuki would for once just mind his own business.

"Pupupu! What did you do this time Bakamura?"

Youichi knows that tone of voice, it's exact teasing timber that Miyuki uses when he wants to get a rise out of Sawamura. And Sawamura, like the idiot he is, responds on cue.

"What?! I didn't do anything Miyuki Kazuya! He just—"He's unable to finish what he's going to say because Youichi gives him another good squeeze. Miyuki doesn't need to know any details.

"Kyahaha! Captain, listen to this. This guy was just going overboard again. The visitors were saying some junk about us and he couldn't help himself," it's not a lie, not really. That really did all happen.

It's just that, he doesn't really want to share the little nuggets of information about Sawamura he'd just gleaned. He wanted to hoard them away. It's something between him and Sawaura, Miyuki doesn't have to have any part in it.

"Is that so?" Miyuki's voice is a bit softer this time. His expression too, as if he's reminiscing about something. Youichi doesn't want to think about what that softness could mean.

"That's right, what an idiot, isn't he?" He doesn't spare it any more mind.

"Now, Bakamura owes me a night of losing to me in Mortal Combat. That's fair don't you think Bakamura? Kyahaha!"

And with that, he takes his leave. Making sure to turn fast enough that he doesn't see Miyuki's reaction.

"Hey! Mochi-senpai! Let go! …Please."

Bringing Sawamura along with him. He can feel Miyuki's gaze burning hot on his back and is hyper aware of the folded note shoved up his sleeve. He'll have to make sure that Sawamura doesn't spill the beans on their planned excursion.

As they're walking away, Youichi idly ponders that he'll have go at trying the inverse facelock on Sawamura tonight. He remembers how good Sawamura looked stretched out in that position - who knows what he looks like in all other kinds of wrestling holds. He's struck with the idea that it might be worth getting a full-length mirror for their dorm room. He'll speak to Takashima-sensei about it in the morning.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Youichi is standing in front of the Kamogawa gym with Sawamura. It looks smaller (and older) than he'd imagined it would. It was a short walk from the station that was about an hour's train ride out from Tokyo station. The air is fresh and crisp; he suspects that they're probably close to the ocean.

"...It was so loud! Dad was playing his guitar, but him and Maa-chan were singing as well! It was horrible! Gramps gave them both smack after that and they had to spend the whole day in the orchard. Haha!"

All morning, including the commute across, Sawamura had been regaling Youichi with stories about 'Maa-chan'. About how he'd become fast friends with Sawamura's father during his brief 3-week stint in Tokyo trying to make it big as a rock star. Then about how 'Maa-chan' made frequent visits to the Sawamura family farm after that.

Sawamura's casual mention of a long-time personal hero drives home that he's about to spend the day with Takamura Mamoru. THE Takamura Mamoru. And he's nervous all over again, but this time without the blinding rage to squelch it down. There's a JBC advertising pamphlet that he's hoping to fill with signatures by day's end sitting innocuously in the back pocket of his jeans and it certainly isn't helping with the nerves. He feels himself going hot with embarrassment just thinking about how he's going to go about asking for their autographs.

They stand awkwardly at the entrance for a moment before Sawamura seems to decide that they're going to let themselves in. They recoil a bit on reflex when Sawamura pulls open the sliding door and they're brought face-to-face with all four of the boxers that had come to visit Seidou just recently - looking like, they themselves are about to head out.

Takamura's looking up and down at their clothes questioningly.

"I hope you brats brought a change of clothes," Youichi finds himself glancing at Sawamura and then looking down at his own attire. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with what they're wearing. He directs a questioning frown back at Takamura.

Who grins broadly in return.

Youichi has a bad feeling. A very bad feeling

"You didn't think we were going to let you just sit and watch, did you?"


End file.
